


I'm Fine, it's Just Memories

by MidnightReswri



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Post-Purgatory, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-21
Updated: 2013-05-21
Packaged: 2017-12-12 13:03:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/811883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MidnightReswri/pseuds/MidnightReswri
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean thought the nightmares and flashbacks would stop when he knew Castiel was out of Purgatory. He thought he'd regain some semblance of his normal functions. When Cas isn't there all the time in the beginning, Dean gets a little worse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'm Fine, it's Just Memories

**Author's Note:**

> Requested by thattallguy69 on Tumblr.

Dean's head arched back in his sleep, hitting the headboard. His eyes moved rapidly beneath closed lids, as if searching in the darkness. He dreamed of endless trees and fallen leaves. He heard the growls and snarls of monsters he hunted and killed without end. He clenched his fists in the comforter beneath him and twisted his body in place.

Sam woke up to the grunting, gun in hand before his eyes even opened. He sat up, swung his legs over the edge, and watched his brother. He sighed and rubbed his temples. The nightmares were getting worse, from the younger brother's perspective.

"You're right, Sam," said Castiel.

Sam hardly jumped in his seat. His hand tightened on the grip, finger ghosting over the trigger, when the angel arrived. "What you're reading my mind now?" he asked, mouth raising in an almost smile. He relaxed his grip and rested his arms on his legs.

"No, but you're concern for your brother is apparent." Castiel stared down at the fitful hunter. He tightened his mouth. "His nightmares are more…disturbing, than before."

"Can't you do something, Cas?" Sam looked up to Castiel, pleading and hoping the angel can.

"I don't think I can." Castiel looked away from Dean, who started weeping in his sleep. It was a vulnerability the angel knew Dean wouldn't willingly show. "This is something that I cannot heal."

Sam's shoulders slumped and he bowed his head. "Yeah, neither can I."

 

Castiel had gone by the time Dean woke himself up, chest heaving and sweating. His gun was in his hand and he didn't realize the added weight was even there. He looked over to Sam, who pretended to sleep and Dean would have noticed if he wasn't panicking from the nightmare. Dean wiped his hands over his face, noticed the gun and wondered when he grabbed it from beneath his pillow. He set the weapon down and walked over to the mini-fridge. He took out a beer, hands shaking as he lifted it to his mouth and then he set it down. He stood, hunched over the fridge, willing his hands to be steady and tried to drink it again.

Dean fell against the wall and stared at the ceiling, mumbling a prayer to Castiel. A broken sob was quickly drowned with beer. Sam watched him from his bed the rest of the night. The younger Winchester wondered if Dean still saw Purgatory around him, or if he was aware he was home.

 

The case they were working dealt with a rash of vampire attacks in a small town. The locals were thinking it was a serial killer with a monster movie kink who had come in from out of town. Sam spoke to the townspeople; Dean talked to the police. Things had been going pretty routine. The bodies were drained of blood with the tell-tale sign of being bitten by a vampire. They looked for the most likely locations where the vamp would be hiding during the day and staked them out.

Sam didn't want to bring up the fact that Castiel had been there that previous night. He didn't want to bring up Dean's nightmares or that they'd been getting more intense. Dean looked worse. His eyes had heavier bags, and he worked harder to make himself appear more fine than he was. "Maybe you should take some time to relax," said Sam.

They were sitting in the cheapest diner in town, which also happened to have the best food. Dean hunched over his food, shoving it into his mouth. "I'm not taking this one off, Sammy," he said, mouth full of burger.

"I’m not asking you to sit out for the rest of the case," he explained, "but I'm not stupid, Dean. You barely slept last night."

"And what would you know about that?" Dean looked out the window, tapping his fingers on the table.

 "Come on, man." Sam leaned over the table, voice dropping to a whisper. "You've been sleeping less since you got back from Purgatory. The nightmares?"

Dean's shoulders squared at the mention of Purgatory. His eyes looked past Sam to the wall. His tapping became urgent. He counted the exits in the room: the entrance to the diner, the windows (can be broken in a hurry if needed), the door to the kitchen leading to a backdoor. He cleared his throat and smiled, "What about 'em?"

"They're getting worse, aren't they?" Sam watched Dean. The stress wasn't leaving. He only became more agitated the hand not tapping the tabletop reaching down to his back where he strapped the machete. Dean's eyes flicked around him. He saw trees in the aisles.

"Dean, you should at least talk about what happened in Purgatory," pushed Sam. "Keeping it to yourself won't do anything but make this worse and Cas is just as worried as I am."

Dean leaned back in his chair, his eyes losing focus on the present. His fingers kept tapping. His face hardened. "Dean," he said, praying he'd be able to ground his brother back to reality. "Do you know where you are?"

"Where is he, you son of a bitch?" asked Dean; his hand pulled out the machete. He dived over the table, yanked Sam out of his chair and shoved him against the wall, the blade against his throat. "Where. Is. He?"

The diner became silent. Patrons and staff alike stopped what they were doing and stared at the brothers. The sudden violence freezing them all into inaction.

Sam's eyes widened and tried not to move. "Where's who?"

"You know damn well who I'm looking for," Dean responded, his voice straining to keep from yelling. From attracting more monsters. "Now, the way I see it is you got two choices: one, you tell me what you know or two, you don't and I kill you."

"Dean, please," said Sam. "What you're seeing isn't real."

"I'm not gonna ask again," warned Dean. "Spill or you lose your head."

One of the patrons had stood up from his booth on the other side of the table and walked over to the brothers. Sam panicked, not because of the sharp edge near his neck, but because the poor bastard didn't know what he was walking in on. He tried to signal to the man to stay back. He could handle Dean.

The man either didn't understand the erratic hand movements or he didn't care to take the message. He clamped his hand down on Dean's shoulder. "Hey—!" Whatever the man was going to say was left unsaid. Dean whirled around. He grabbed the man's arm and twisted him until Dean was behind him. He slammed the man against the table and put his weight on his back. He kept the machete level on Sam.

Sam partially relaxed because Dean hadn't killed the guy. "Okay, um, Dean," he tried and raised his hands. "Let the man go, he's innocent."

"Where's the angel?" demanded Dean.

"I'm right here, Dean." Castiel appeared behind him, touching his shoulder gently. Dean rounded on him, not even seeming to have heard him. He swung the machete, catching the coat and just slicing the skin. Castiel didn't react to the new injury. He tilted his head, narrowing his eyes. "Dean."

Sam breathed, "The hell have you been?"

Dean stabbed the blade into Castiel's stomach, withdrew it. The angel looked down at the blood seeping into his shirt. The hunter swung his blade again, aiming to decapitate the vamp in front of him. He was stopped by Sam grabbing his arm and slamming it down on the table. Dean grunted and slammed his free into Sam's chest and face. The taller Winchester stumbled back into another table and barely managed to tell the people still stuck in their decision whether to stay or flee to get the hell out of there. Sam touched his face and pulled it away, confirming that his nose was bleeding and likely broken.

Sam stood next to Castiel and asked, "What do we do?"

Dean moved like he was already in battle with an enemy only he could see. He ducked, punched, and swung his arm like he still held the machete.

"Restrain him, probably," offered the angel, shrugging.

"Sure. Easy." Sam stepped towards Dean and ducked out of the way of his swinging arms. His older brother fell back and grunted like he'd been punched. Sam briefly wondered about the memory Dean was locked in. Then, he took the opportunity to throw his arms around Dean to hold him. This earned a frantic counterattack and Dean cried out as his flashback and the forest began to fade and the diner started coming back into his vision. He flailed until he threw himself out of Sam's arms. His hand found the machete again and he took hold of it.

Sam fell into a table, catching himself on chairs that slid from the contact.

Castiel moved forward, ducking under a wild swing of the weapon. He caught Dean's arm and yanked the blade out of his hand and threw it across the restaurant. "Dean," he said, touching Dean's face, "it's okay. I'm here."

Dean struggled to get free, punching his free hand at Castiel's head. The angel caught it without glancing at it. "Let go of me," he seethed. "You son of a bitch, let go!"

Castiel pulled Dean closer. "Dean, you don't need to look for me anymore. I am here."

Dean blinked away the last of the trees and the last of the nightmarish faces that haunted him. "Cas? Wha—?" He breathed. His chest felt like fire. He gulped down air like he hadn't breathed since the flashback started. His knees were weak. His body felt limp.

His eyes scanned Castiel's face for a moment before throwing his arms around the angel's shoulders. He buried his face in the crook of Castiel's neck and breathed in his scent. "Thank God," he sobbed. "You're still here."

Castiel slowly returned to the embrace and said, "Of course I am, Dean."

Dean sank to his knees, dragging Castiel down with him. He held fistfuls of the trench and held onto the angel. He tried to hold back the rest of the sobs. He clenched his teeth and screamed into Castiel's shoulder, blinking rapidly to keep the tears at bay. Still, he shook and heaved and sobbed all the same and hated himself for being so weak that he couldn't stop the pain. He felt terrified that he would lose his reality again, that Castiel would really be gone that time, that he would leave Sam with more than a broken nose the next time he had a flashback that violent.

"It's okay, Dean," said Castiel. "I won't leave so long as you need me."

Dean shuddered, the hatred of himself and guilt that he let it happen gnawing against the fear of losing himself again. He could feel the tears then, leaving hot trails on his face. Oh god, he thought, he actually cried. How disappointed are Cas and Sam, he wondered, for showing weakness?

Sam shoved a napkin under his nose and winced as he reset it. He watched Dean hold onto Castiel like a lifeline. He couldn't do it, he thought. He couldn't be the anchor his brother needed, like Dean had been for him when he had hallucinations of Lucifer. He looked away and tried not to believe he failed. He focused on his nose, using the pain as a distraction.

 

Dean recovered enough to finish the job. Castiel insisted he would stay and Sam sent a silent 'thank you' to the angel. Dean tried to ignore the feeling of security that Castiel would be there with him. He wouldn't let go, he promised. It wouldn't end like Purgatory.

That night in the motel, Castiel watched over Dean as he slept. He sat on the bed and didn't protest when Dean fell asleep sitting up and slid over to lean against him. Dean's breaths ghosted against his cheeks. Castiel hoped his presence would ease the nightmares of Purgatory. He needed to do this, to atone for letting go and because Dean needed him.

For the first time since they found each other again, Sam didn't wake up to the sound of Dean's nightmares.


End file.
